


Bad Neighbors

by firstdegreefangirl



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Bottom Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Bottom Evan "Buck" Buckley, Eddie lives in an apartment here, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Porn With Plot, Smut, Switching, Top Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Top Evan "Buck" Buckley, shhhh just go with it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 15:42:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29474163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firstdegreefangirl/pseuds/firstdegreefangirl
Summary: Eddie's new neighbors are keeping him up all night. He calls on his best friend for a little taste of their own medicine.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Comments: 27
Kudos: 390





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> I've lost track of the original post, but like eight months ago, Eli and I were talking about the tumblr post about making fake sex noises to irritate the neighbors, and how it could get out of hand. She basically dared me to do this, and yeah, it took _forever_ but here we are! 
> 
> For plot reasons, Eddie lives in an apartment. Shared walls are the bane of his existence, but it's fine, he's handling it FINE. Enjoy!

Eddie rolls onto his side, dragging the pillow out from underneath his head to hold it over his ear as he groans, resisting the urge to start beating his head against the wall. 

He knows that wouldn’t help, anyway. It’s the third night in a row he’s been kept awake, every night since his new neighbors moved in. He supposes that he should be impressed, in some masculine, primal way, at how late they stay up every night, christening their new apartment and threatening to send the bed through the wall. 

But he’s not impressed, or marveled, or happy for them. Mostly, he’s just exhausted, tired of the noises he’s forced to endure for what feels like hours at a time. He remembers being young once, the first place he and Shannon lived together, how sometimes it felt impossible to keep their hands off of each other. 

But _good God,_ if they were ever this obnoxious about it, he has a stack of apology cards to write up. 

There’s no time to dwell on that tonight, though, the past being the past and all that. Instead, he looks around in the dim light from the window and tries to figure out if he can rearrange his room and at least get his bed pushed up against a different wall. 

It doesn’t take long before he reaches the same conclusion he has the last two nights: there’s no other layout that will work. Sure, there are other walls, and in theory he could just shift everything 90 degrees. But that would put his headboard right next to the door, cut into the vantage point he needs so he can relax enough to sleep some nights. 

Whatever’s coming into the room, he can see it from here. Usually that means he has a few moments’ notice before Chris appears, but some nights it’s the only thought he lets himself focus on, that he can see his hallway, his apartment, that no one – no matter who they are – can get in without him noticing. 

He knows he can’t give that up, would never sleep right again, with or without the noisy neighbors. 

So he resigns himself to his fate, pushes the pillow more tightly over the side of his head and prays he can at least wake up to silence. It’s just shy of 3 a.m. when he’s finally able to fall asleep, pretending he can’t practically feel the way his bedframe jostles every time there’s another _thud_ on the other side of the wall. 

It isn’t good sleep, or enough sleep, but he’s functional in the morning. An extra cup of coffee, and he’s even able to put a load of laundry in the dryer before he drives across their little neighborhood to drop Chris off with Karen and Hen for a playdate. 

The apartment is quiet when he gets back, the blissful silence he’d been hoping for the night before. He dumps the laundry straight onto the bed and sits down by the pillows to start folding, stacking the clothes into neat piles to put away. 

He’s just beginning to consider a nap – a rare luxury as a single father, but arguably necessary today, maybe moving the clothes over and laying down before he’s even finished the folding – when there’s a thump from behind the wall. 

Then another. And a loud moan. 

_So much for that._

Eddie groans, rolls his eyes and tries to finish the laundry as quickly as he can. He’s almost aggressive with the force he uses to tuck the tiny sleeves underneath and all but slam Chris’ shirts into the stack, trying to figure out what he’s going to do. Because he just can’t go on like this forever. 

Or for however many months are left on his lease, but he really likes living here, and he’s not about to be run out of the best apartment he’s ever had, just because the new neighbors can’t keep the volume down. 

He thinks about knocking on the door to introduce himself, welcome them to the building, casually mention something about how they live in such a nice, _quiet,_ area, and they might have seen his 9-year-old around, isn’t he a great kid? Except that he’s not feeling particularly friendly about all of this, and if they miss the hint, then he’s still stuck dealing with them. 

A couple other solutions cross his mind, but none of them feel quite right. What he really needs is for them to get a taste of their own medicine, for someone to make an absolutely unreasonable amount of sex noises against _their_ bedroom wall so they know exactly what they’ve been putting him through. 

The idea comes to him quickly, that he could replicate the kinds of noises he’s been putting up with, let them see how much they like having to listen to their next door neighbor having sex at two in the afternoon. 

Before the plan is even completely formed in his own mind, Eddie’s reaching for his phone. He’s going to need a hand with this, and there’s only one person he can think of who wouldn’t call him some sort of a weirdo for putting this much effort into his revenge. 

“Eddie? Hey, did I know you were calling?” Buck picks up on the third ring, audibly confused, because Eddie doesn’t usually call him out of the blue, not without texting first to make sure he’s free to chat. 

“No, uh, sorry. I just need a favor.” 

“Of course, you name it.” Buck means that, Eddie can tell. Whatever he’s about to ask, he knows Buck is already on board, because that’s just the kind of friend he is, there for anything, _everything,_ no matter what. His eagerness offers a sort of comfort, the knowledge that Buck won’t judge him for his idea, is willing to do whatever Eddie needs from him, just to help him out. “Is everything OK?” 

“Yeah, everyone’s fine. Um, listen, this is going to sound really weird. But my new neighbors are keeping me up all night trying to put the bed through the wall.” There’s a sympathetic hiss, but Eddie keeps talking, before he can lose his resolve. “Can you come help me … make some noise? Prove a point to them?” 

Buck hesitates for a second before he answers, just long enough that Eddie begins to wonder if he’s found the limit, reached the end of what Buck will go along with. But he hears the rattle of Buck’s keys, can picture him setting the phone down to pull a hoodie over his shoulders. 

“Sure, on my way.” 

The call ends, and Eddie knows exactly how much time he has before Buck arrives, almost down to the second. He puts the laundry away, tucks his jeans neatly into the drawer, and straightens the covers on top of the bed. 

He’s not sure why it matters to him, since they’re going to be moving the bed back and forth anyway, but his mother raised him with manners, and that includes making sure your bed is made when company comes over. Not that Buck counts as company, though; he’s pretty much the closest thing Eddie’s had to a roommate since the Army, when he shared a giant room with a couple dozen other guys. 

But it gives him something to do, makes him feel like a good host. So he smooths out the edges of the comforter, makes sure the pillows are arranged neatly, just as he hears a short knock and the front door creaks open. 

“Eddie?” 

“Bedroom!” He calls back toward the hallway, knows his voice will carry down the short hallway. And sure enough, Buck appears in the doorway just a second later. 

“Hey. So, new neighbors? I'm sure they’re lovely people.” 

“They’re _loud_ people,” Eddie rolls his eyes and scrubs a hand over his face. “Three nights, man, I haven’t seen more than five hours of sleep a single one of them. Then I’m here folding laundry and they decide to go for a little afternoon delight, spend 40 minutes slamming the bed against the wall.” 

“So we’re …" 

“Showing them what it’s like, having to listen to this crap all the time.” 

“Alright. What’s the plan?” 

This is the part where Eddie hesitates, pretty sure that what he’s about to suggest is going to be the strangest thing Buck has heard all day. All week, probably. 

“I just need someone on the other side of the bed, helping knock the frame against the wall for a little bit. Maybe … moan a little bit, if you want.” Eddie rubs at the back of his neck; when he says it out loud, the whole thing sounds like the sort of thing he’d hear in a B-list movie, the kind of comedy that’s brimming with slapstick humor that leaves him wondering why anyone would ever try anything like that in real life. 

“Sure, yeah. I’ll call it part of my workout today.” Buck laughs and steps up to stand next to the mattress. 

“Thanks. Pizza on me after?” Eddie figures it’s the least he can do, especially if they’re able to take care of the problem with his neighbors. 

“You know, traditionally, it’s dinner first, _then_ the fake sex noises.” Buck smirks and Eddie swears he can feel his face heating up. “But I’m flexible.” 

Buck’s expression is almost unmistakable, and it rattles Eddie a little bit. _Surely he doesn’t mean … the plan doesn’t have anything to do with …_

But it’s probably just a joke, Buck trying to add some humor to a supremely weird situation. 

“Anyway,” Eddie forces a chuckle. “Just try not to put any _actual_ holes in the wall. I don’t feel like explaining that to the landlord.” 

Buck laughs and squats down, reaching for the edge of the bedframe. Eddie mirrors the action and counts to three. 

They lift up in unison, rocking the bed back and forth, knocking it steadily against the wall. Eddie listens to the rhythm, counts through the first few hits. Buck grunts, and Eddie can see the way his biceps flex as he shifts his grip, but he can’t tell if he’s making the sound intentionally, or just from exertion. 

Regardless, a few swings later, Eddie moans loudly, feeling the noise vibrate in the back of his throat while he carefully focuses on everything in the room except Buck. 

They rock the bed back and forth a few more times, and Eddie leans forward, pressing on the mattress with one hand to make the springs give a little bit. 

“Yeah, oh-oh yeah, that’s it, right there,” he moans loudly, trying to ignore how stupid he feels. “Oh, oh _yes!”_

Buck freezes, letting go of the bedframe and standing up straight. He stops moving so suddenly that Eddie’s shoulder pulls a little bit when he tries to swing the full weight from one side. As soon as he realizes what’s happened, he sets his side down carefully and stretches as he stands. 

“Dude, what was _that?”_ Buck rests his hands on his hips and stares incredulously. 

“Moaning?” 

“OK, don’t take this the wrong way,” he holds one hand up, like he’s talking to a scared animal, and even though Eddie has no idea what’s coming next, he’s almost positive it’s going to be less-than-savory. “I know you have a kid and all, but have you ever actually _had sex?”_

“What?” Eddie blinks, trying to figure out what Buck is getting at. Because he knows that Buck knows he has, knows he’d told him about when Shannon came back, before she moved back to Texas without him. So if he’s asking now, there must be a reason. 

“I’m sorry, but either you have no idea what sex sounds like, or you’re a terrible actor.” He huffs out a short laugh. “Either way, your neighbors will never believe this. We’ve got to do something more realistic.” 

“What?” He asks again. “Buck, it’s not that big a deal. Just shake the bed and moan every couple of minutes.” 

“Every couple of _minutes?”_ With the way Buck is looking at him, Eddie is pretty sure that if there weren’t a king-sized bed between them, Buck would probably be hitting him right now. “Just moaning? Eddie, I have a reputation to maintain. Get on the bed.” 

Buck waves at the middle of the mattress and Eddie stares. 

“What?” This time, he’s pretty sure he knows what Buck is suggesting, but he’s struggling to make sense of the idea. 

“You don’t have to. Stop me if you want, but the offer’s on the table.” When Eddie doesn’t respond, Buck hurries to continue his almost-rambles. “I mean, we’re two hot guys, neither of us are getting anything from anyone else; I don’t see why we should spend all this energy pretending we had sex and then _still not have any sex.”_

_Well, he makes a point._ It’s not like Eddie’s been with anyone for a while, longer than he cares to admit even to himself. Not since Shannon left, and even then, only a handful of times since he’d moved to LA. 

So he’s in a bit of a dry spell, and he hasn’t been with any guys since his Army days, months in overly humid canvas tents giving way to mutual stress relief, no feelings attached. 

And he _really_ needs to get the point across, before he actually dies of sleep deprivation, or kills the neighbors or something. So if his acting is really that bad, they need to come up with something else. 

Besides, he’d be lying if he said Buck isn’t attractive, that he’s never noticed how many heads turn to follow him when they roll up on a scene. He could do way, _way_ worse than Buck. 

So, what the hell? 

Eddie lays down slowly, trying to make himself look at least slightly more enticing than he would if he just flopped across the bed. He leans his weight on his elbows and looks at Buck, who’s taken the few steps to stand at the foot of the bed. 

“Sure, it can’t be weirder than this.” 

“Not quite the enthusiastic consent I was hoping for.” Buck laughs, but pulls his shirt off anyway, over his head in one fluid motion, dropped on the floor at his feet. He trails his fingers down his chest, tracing the lines of his own abs, and Eddie’s mouth goes dry. 

When Buck tucks three fingers in the waistband of his jeans, pulls them down just far enough that Eddie can see the chiseled lines trailing south, his own pants start getting tight. 

_Jesus, it really has been too long, if he’s getting hard at the sight of Buck’s hipbones._

Eddie sucks in a breath, watching Buck’s fingers flick open the button at the top of his fly. It gives effortlessly under his touch, and Eddie wonders what else Buck can do with his hands. 

Thankfully, he doesn’t get the chance to ask, because he’s pretty sure the words would come out all wrong, that somehow, he’d offend Buck and everything would be over before it was even really started. 

Not even five minutes ago, he’d been hesitant, worried that it would be uncomfortable, thinking about what could happen down the road, trying to figure out why Buck was so comfortable suggesting this. 

But now, Buck is crawling up the length of the bed, boxing Eddie in with his limbs, and he knows that they can figure everything else out, as long as he gets to find out what, exactly, Buck had suggested. His hand is hovering over the hem of Eddie’s shirt now, close enough that he can feel the heat of his skin through the fabric, even though it’s not touching. 

“Any limits?” He’s hoarse, and when Eddie makes himself drag his eyes up to meet Buck’s, his pupils are dark, only a faint ring of blue around the edges. 

“I’ll stop you if I need to.” Eddie whines, his own eyes going wide as the noise surprises him, coming from deep in his throat without his permission. 

“See?” Buck lets his hand drop onto Eddie’s stomach, rubs little circles into the soft fabric. There’s no reason it should effect Eddie as much as it does, but it’s like he can feel the touch going straight to his dick. And yet, Buck manages to sound almost totally unaffected as he pulls his fingers away and rolls up to kneel over Eddie’s thighs. “ _That’s_ how sexy sounds.” 

He pushes the jeans down his thighs, catches his thumbs in the elastic of his boxer-briefs and drags them down too. 

Eddie watches his dick spring free, half-blurred at the edges of his vision. He’s getting ready to look down, trying to steel his nerves against … he’s not sure what, exactly, but he doesn’t get to find out. Because before he can work up the nerve, Buck is leaning back up over him, reaching sideways to grope in Eddie’s nightstand drawer. He kicks the pants off, sits back up with a bottle of lube in his hand. 

This time, Eddie takes the chance to look Buck up and down; even though he’s not sure what he’d been expecting, he’s hardly surprised to find that the trail of coarse hair running down Buck’s stomach turns into a neat thatch that surrounds his cock, thick and hard. It’s not leaking yet, but the lube clicks open just as Eddie realizes that he’s still fully clothed. 

He sits up far enough to drag his own shirt over his head, flings it vaguely in the direction of the hamper and lays back as Buck slicks three of his fingers. Eddie feels his ass tighten at the thought, but he’s still wearing his jeans, so he’s not sure why he’s momentarily nervous. 

Besides, Buck is reaching back, not down, winding his arm around his own hip. Eddie can’t see what he’s doing, but he’s got a general idea, especially when he sees Buck’s arm flex as he lets out a quiet groan. His eyes flutter closed, but when they open again, he looks around and Eddie can practically see the moment he remembers why they’re in this position in the first place. His thighs shake, and Eddie reaches out for the first time. 

He runs his hands along the outside of Buck’s legs, from knee to hip and back again, The skin is warm, even against the cold air around it, as Eddie wraps his hands around the strong muscles, helping Buck hold himself up. 

His hold on Buck’s legs means that Eddie can feel the way his thighs twitch when Buck starts moving his hand again, can practically keep track of the minute thrusts he still can’t see. 

Buck’s next moan is louder, a little bit performative, but just as enthusiastic as the first. It adds to the heat churning low in Eddie’s stomach, the way his jeans are growing uncomfortably tight. He’s hardly done anything but lie here and let Buck finger himself on top of him, but Eddie’s harder than he can remember being in ages, his focus reduced to Buck, how Buck looks, how Buck feels, how he can feel Buck’s arousal bleeding into his own body where their skin touches. 

He groans again, a little bit strangled this time, and Eddie feels his hips rock upward of their own accord, not far enough to bump against Buck’s ass, but close enough that Eddie thinks he must have noticed. Because he looks down again, grins arrogantly at Eddie as his bicep strains with his next movement. 

His thighs give out, knees tipping forward to catch him against the comforter as his dick rubs against Eddie’s stomach. From this angle, he can’t see Buck’s front anymore, but can feel the side of his cock, leaking into the crevasse of his abs as he rocks back and forth. 

And he can watch Buck’s forearm, the way it’s twisting and pumping his fingers in and out of his own body. He’s making more noises now, but Eddie doesn’t think they’re for anyone’s sake but his own, the way they sound involuntary as they rise in pitch and frequency. 

But then he’s standing up, pulling his fingers loose and righting himself onto shaky legs with a gasp. His hands dig into the edges of the bed, and Eddie is thankful that his bedding is dark enough that the residual lube won’t leave a stain. 

“Buck?” It’s his turn to sound steady, like he hadn’t just been supporting Buck’s weight while he stretched himself open. 

“Up, c’mon, you’re still dressed.” Buck is turning for the nightstand again, opening the drawer with his clean hand. “You have condoms in here?” 

He sounds frantic, desperate in a way that sends Eddie to his own feet in an instant, shoving his pants away without any fanfare. He can’t take the pressure against his cock any longer, needs to be freed from the confines of his clothes like he needs to breathe, like fish need water, like … like he needs Buck right now. 

Buck, who’s holding a foil packet triumphantly in the air, trying not to stumble as he turns around again. 

The air around them is practically electric, charged with the anticipation they’ve been building together. But they’re both idle, and it gives Eddie just enough time to hesitate again, unsure what they’re planning to do next, how they’ll proceed from here. 

“How do we …" He trails off, suddenly embarrassed to put words to everything running through his head as he drops down to sit on the mattress, carefully avoiding the sticky spot where Buck’s hand had been. 

“I’m not explaining it.” Buck’s voice is harsh, but warm with the undercurrent of amusement. “If you can’t figure out what goes where, you’re beyond help.” 

He laughs, and so does Eddie, some of the uncomfortable tension giving way to tension of a much more desirable sort. 

“No, I mean, I know _that,”_ Eddie reaches out, leaning forward until his fingers graze Buck’s hip. His skin is hot underneath the touch, and it’s doing things to Eddie that he hasn’t experienced in years. “But how do we get started?” 

“Lube, a finger or two if you want, but honestly you can just go for it. I took care of the prep.” He steps forward, pressing the condom into Eddie’s hand. “I trust you know what to do with this?” 

Eddie nods, feeling his throat go tight as he tears the packet open. All he’d wanted to do was piss off the neighbors, but here he is, hard as a rock and about to fuck his best friend. 

_It’s funny how these things work out,_ he thinks to himself as he rolls the condom down his shaft. Buck walks around him, and Eddie feels the mattress shift under his weight. _Now he doesn’t even have to be jealous that the neighbors have an active sex life and he’s stuck with his own right hand._

Speaking of, he reaches down and gives himself a couple of firm strokes with a lube-filled palm, squeezing tightly at the base of his cock as he turns around to kneel on the end of the mattress, behind where Buck is on all fours. 

“Ready?” It’s far from the sexiest thing he’s ever said, but Buck nods, and Eddie lines himself up. He pushes in steadily, taking his time but not letting up until his hips are sitting flush against Buck’s. 

He’s hot, in every sense of the word, inside and out, in a way that totally encompasses Eddie too, radiating up from the points where they’re connected until it feels like even the tips of his toes and the tops of his ears are burning too. 

But then he’s pulling back and rocking his hips forward experimentally. And Buck’s head is dropping low, hanging heavy between his shoulders. It’s like Eddie is fucking the tension out of him, the way he’s sagging down with every slow thrust. 

Eddie focuses on the feelings, every slow drag in and out of Buck’s body, his hands on Buck’s strong hips, the way that one of his knees is pressing up against the outside of Buck’s calf. That’s what does him in, the casual intimacy in the way their legs are touching, even though it’s not a prerequisite for everything else they’re doing right now. 

It’s just like the way their legs bump together sitting on the couch during movie night, except that everything else about this situation is different, and it feels like this should be too. 

That familiar touch is enough to send Eddie’s hips snapping forward, his self-control getting away from him as he thinks about how perfectly _them_ this feels, even as it’s so unlike anything they’ve done before. He thrusts harder, driving his cock in and out of Buck’s body, losing himself in how tight and slick Buck feels. 

He must be doing something right, because as soon as he starts moving faster, Buck cranes his neck up and jerks an arm forward to grab onto the headboard. He moans loudly, a sound that crackles down Eddie’s body, like he’d be able to see the lightning-bolt shaped path it took down to his dick, stuttering his hips and coiling white-hot in his stomach. 

Eddie’s never liked the word ‘wanton,’ always thought it sounded a little whiny and judgmental. But it’s the only thing that makes sense of the noises Buck is making now, the sharp gasps and loud groans as Eddie pumps in and out of him, fingers digging tighter into his hips as he redoubles his efforts. 

Finally, he gets the results he’d been hoping for, as their combined momentum shifts the entire bedframe back and forth, sends the headboard knocking into the wall. Eddie glances up, suddenly worried that Buck’s fingers might be getting pinched between the metal and plaster. He’s adjusted his grip, though, twisted his wrists enough that the broadest part of his hand faces their side of the room, not the wall. 

Eddie readjusts his hold as well, letting go of Buck’s hip with one hand to lean forward and grab the headboard himself. His chest presses against Buck’s back, and from this position he can feel how heavily Buck is breathing, shallow bursts of air in time with the staccato thrusts. 

The new angle changes the way his dick presses into Buck’s body, more friction and a slightly softer spot he hadn’t been dragging against before. Buck yelps the first time Eddie hits it, the noise sounding even louder for how close together their faces are. He tries to stop, wants to check in and make sure he hasn’t hurt him somehow, but as soon as he slows down, Buck is thrusting his hips backward, awkwardly trying to move himself up and down Eddie’s length even though the angle is all wrong. 

“God, Eds, _please,”_ the words sound broken as they tumble from his mouth. “Shit, you-you gotta _touch.”_ There’s a noise like a sob that punctuates the end of the sentence, but no tears on Buck’s face. 

Still, Eddie listens, pulls his remaining hand up from Buck’s waist and drags it down the length of his chest. Buck moans loudly when Eddie’s fingers run across one of his nipples, scratch lightly over his abs. 

Then he’s playing with the coarse hair around the base of his dick before he wraps his hand around the shaft and squeezes. Buck’s entire body convulses at that, jerking forward as he tries to thrust into Eddie’s fist. He groans again, loud and long and garbled, and it shouldn’t be the hottest thing Eddie’s ever heard, but he thinks it might just be. 

Until he starts moving his hand up and down Buck’s dick, in time with his steady thrusts, slowed down just enough that he can keep the two motions coordinated. It’s harder than it’s looked the few times Eddie’s seen the move play out on his laptop screen, incognito mode not telling him how much of a challenge it is to move his hand forward and his hips back at the same time, keeping an even pace. 

Luckily, he doesn't have to keep it up for long, because Buck is going rigid beneath him, arching his back and spilling over Eddie’s hand with another loud moan. The first half of it sounds like it’s supposed to be Eddie’s name, but he loses it partway through, the letters getting all twisted up as he writhes around beneath Eddie. 

He’s squeezing tight around Eddie’s cock, making his last few thrusts shallower and slower than the rest. It’s still enough, though, and he’s resisting the urge to muffle his own groan into Buck’s neck. Much as he’d love to bury his face there, inhale the scent of him and feel the heat of his skin, Eddie knows he needs to keep the sounds as loud as possible. 

After all, the point of this is to get revenge on his neighbors, and he can’t lose sight of that. He’s a grown man, for god’s sake; he should be able to focus on at least knowing _why_ he just had mind-blowing sex with his best friend. 

When they’ve both ridden out the last of their aftershocks, when their fingers have loosened around the headboard and the sweat on Eddie’s back is starting to give him a chill, he shifts his hips again and slips out. Buck whimpers, but Eddie isn’t sure what he should say in response as he ties off the condom and tosses it toward the tissue-filled wastebasket next to the bed. There’s no easy protocol here, no tried-and-true line for what comes next. 

But his hand is still sticky, so he half-rolls off of the bed and stumbles toward the bathroom to wash up, brings Buck a damp washcloth to clean himself up while Eddie dresses. Then Buck is pulling his own jeans back on, awkwardly running a hand through his hair and refusing to look directly at Eddie, but seemingly incapable of not looking _near_ him. 

“So … pizza?” Eddie breaks the silence, then winces, pretty sure he’s just said the wrong thing, without having even the slightest idea what the right words would have been. He just knew that one of them had to say _something,_ had to spur the afternoon along, lest they spend the rest of the day avoiding each other’s eyes and letting this settle into the kind of weirdness they can’t shake off. 

Besides, it’s the least he can do to thank Buck for coming to his rescue this afternoon. 

“Sure, sounds good.” Buck sounds a little dazed, but at least he’s looking Eddie in the eyes now, watching the way he reaches for his phone on the nightstand and swipes for the delivery app. 

They move to the living room to wait on the pizza, chuckling together at syndicated sitcom reruns as the last of the discomfort fades back into their usual dynamic. It’s a relief for Eddie, the way that things feel normal between them as they start eating, the memory of what they’d just done left in the bedroom. 

He’ll think about it later, he’s sure, probably lying in bed tonight with the freshly washed sheets as a reminder of his afternoon. 

But for now, he only has to worry about making sure that Buck doesn’t try to take the biggest slice of pizza while he’s not paying attention. Together, they eat the entire thing, and the order of breadsticks Eddie had added on a whim, and Buck wipes the grease from his fingers as he stands up. 

“Think I’m going to head back across town, man. There’s a load of laundry in the dryer calling my name, unless I want to spend all night ironing.” 

“Ooh, yeah, get out of here,” Eddie rolls his eyes and swats at Buck’s arm. “I won’t be seen with you at work tomorrow if you’re a wrinkly mess.” 

They’re still laughing when Buck pulls the door open and pulls his keys from his pocket. 

“Hey, let me know how it goes with the neighbors. And … if you need another hand later.” With that, he’s gone, the Jeep roaring to life in the driveway while Eddie stares at the inside of his front door, rooted to his spot. 

_If he needs another … did Buck just offer his … services … again?_

As much fun as they’d had, Eddie just hopes that they got the message across and he won’t have to find out. 


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie talks to his neighbors. Then he calls Buck. Again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it is ... a Thursday? I had good intentions, but then real-life did the thing, and time got WAY away from me. But career things are settling back out, hopefully, and I'm getting the rest of it under control enough that I had time to edit some this week. So here's Chapter Two, and I'm hoping to have three ready to go up next week, but we shall see!
> 
> Meantime, enjoy!

Eddie doesn’t hear from his neighbors that night. Or the night after, or the night after that. He’s getting enough sleep again, not suffering through the cacophony at all hours of the afternoon on his days off. 

He’s won, he’s pretty sure, and it only took one try. 

He should be thrilled, right? This is what he’d wanted, peace and quiet, isn’t it? 

But there’s something he can’t quite shake, frustration that he’d put up with it as long as he did, and they gave in after Buck came over _once?_

He’s coming back down the hallway from dropping Chris off at school, just enough time to get ready for work before he has to leave again, working they key in its lock when the door next to his opens. 

A woman steps out – Christine, he thinks, if he remembers right from their brief meeting when he’d helped her husband carry the other end of a mattress on move-in day – her hair swept into a neat bun and a briefcase in one hand. 

Eddie smiles at her, tries to ignore the awkward sensations between them. She smiles back, and just when Eddie thinks he’s survived the encounter and managed to keep his thoughts to himself, she opens her mouth. 

“Hey, um, did you, by chance, have some … company … the other night?” 

He doesn’t even need to think about which night it might have been; Buck is pretty much the only person who ever comes over, and they’ve been working different shifts lately, so he’s only been by once this week. 

What doesn’t come to mind right away, though, is what he and Buck had gotten up to the other night. 

“Oh, yeah, that’s Buck. He comes around a lot.” It’s a simple enough answer, but Eddie doesn’t owe her anything; she’s not privy to information about his personal life. Buck is his coworker, his best friend, but he’s more than that too. He’s the best friend Eddie’s _ever_ had, the first person he calls when he needs something, the only name that comes to mind when he wants to share something exciting. There’s no good title for it, no word that covers everything Buck is to him. 

But even if there were, Christine probably wouldn’t want to hear it, judging by the way her face has clouded over. Eddie wonders if she’s a lawyer, from the way she schools her expression almost as soon as it changes, straightening her shoulders and smiling tightly. It’s not friendly, the cold professionalism radiating off of her as Eddie tries to figure out what he’d said to elicit her reaction. 

“Oh, well …" she hesitates for a moment. _Almost definitely a lawyer,_ Eddie decides, as he watches her try to calculate the proper response. “Good for you two. I guess it takes all kinds of kinds.” 

Her words are polite enough, but her tone gives away her discomfort as she locks the door and turns on her heel, shoes clicking against the floor as she walks away. 

Eddie gets his own door open, still trying to piece everything together. He’s standing in his bedroom, stripped down to his boxers and getting ready to put his uniform on when it hits him: 

_She thinks he and Buck are a couple. And she has a problem with that._

They’re not, and aside from the other night, they’ve never done anything that felt particularly romantic to Eddie. Still, he finds himself a little offended at the notion that it would be offensive if they were dating. His life isn’t the neighbors’ business – except what of it they can hear through the wall, but that was a one-time thing, unless they give him reason to do it again – and even if it were, what should it matter who he spends his life with? 

It shouldn’t. 

He ties up the laces on his boots and throws his bag over his shoulder, trying to remember if he’s got an extra pair of socks, just in case, something he’d learned the importance of early in his career. If not, there’s a pack in the bottom of his locker, so he’ll be OK. 

With that, he’s back out the door, ready to brush shoulders with Buck for a couple of minutes before he clocks out at the start of Eddie’s shift. But everyone is milling around when he gets there, his crew for the day trickling in as the previous shift gets ready to leave, so they don’t get to talk much other than a quick greeting and the way that Buck’s fingers trail across Eddie’s shoulders as he steps behind him on his way to the stairs. 

He thinks about texting Buck later, thanking him again for coming over and telling him about his run-in with the neighbor this morning. 

But it’s the busiest shift he’s had, maybe ever, like all of LA is conspiring against him being able to spend more than 10 minutes at a time sitting down to rest between calls. Then one of his relief guys calls in at the last minute, and sure, it’s not his fault that his sister picked today to go into labor, but it means that Eddie works a double, gets off of work right as Buck is coming back into the station. 

He waves at him, too worn out to do anything else, then drives home and drops face-first into bed. He’s not sure how long he sleeps, other than that he wakes up to his phone ringing on the mattress next to him, sitting up and coming awake all at once as he realizes that it’s still light outside, but only just barely. 

“Hello?” He answers the phone without looking, just hoping that it’s not a telemarketer waking him up. 

“Hey, man, did I wake you up or something?” 

“Yeah, actually.” Eddie rolls his eyes at the way that Buck hisses down the line and apologizes. “It’s fine, wasn’t meant to sleep this long anyway. Just a few hours, so I could clean up a little bit before Chris tears through the house again tomorrow. At least Pepa could keep him an extra day so I could cover for Robbins.” 

“That woman’s too good for you, Eddie.” But there’s affection in his voice, like Eddie can hear him smiling through the phone. 

“Don’t I know it,” he teases back. “But surely you weren’t just calling to be my alarm clock. What’s up?” 

“Not much, but I’m off work and you never told me how things went with your neighbors. Did we scare them straight? Or, well … whatever the sexually-inclusive version of that would be?” 

“Yeah, I think so,” Eddie chuckles. “I haven’t heard from them the last couple of nights. Didn’t realize how much I missed a solid night’s sleep, dude. Oh, and actually, I was going to call you later. I ran into the wife the other day before work.” 

“She say anything?” It’s like Buck reads his mind, like he knows Eddie wouldn’t have just brought it up if there weren’t a story worth mentioning. 

“She, ah, I don’t think they liked you. Us. Together.” Eddie stumbles over the words, but Buck hums in a way that make it clear that he knows what Eddie means. “Didn’t come right out and say it, but you know, you can tell. And she was snotty about it, so I figured ... maybe you … I mean, you said …" 

He can’t convince himself to actually say the words, give voice to what’s been going through his head pretty much since he talked to Christina. He’s thought about it for the last three days; every time he lays down, or thinks about his neighbors, he’s thinking about Buck, what they did, how good it felt. But even so, he can’t get the words out of his mouth. 

It’s a good thing Buck knows him so well. 

“Yeah, I know what I said. Give me 40 minutes? Time to shower and change?” He hangs up almost as soon as Eddie agrees, leaving him to turn his phone over and over in his hands, trying to figure out what he needs to do before Buck arrives. 

The bed is made already, sheets clean enough that he can’t justify changing them, just to get them dirty again. But Buck is showering, so maybe he should too. 

It sounds like as good of an idea as any other, so he lets the hot water run down his back, tries not to imagine Buck’s fingers tracing the same lines. 

_This isn’t about them. It's about how Buck is apparently the key to irritating his neighbors enough that they’ll leave him alone._

He towels off and pulls sweatpants over his legs, thinks about putting a shirt on too, but decides against it. It’ll just come off in a few minutes anyway, and he’ll have to refold it. Buck’s seen him shirtless before, in normal contexts too. 

There’s still close to 15 minutes before Buck should be here, so Eddie walks a couple of laps around the apartment, tidying up for the sake of something to do with his energy. On impulse, he throws on a shirt, so Buck won’t think he’s coming across as too forward. He’s just dropped onto the couch, foot jackhammering up and down while he tries to remember how long it’s been since he got off the phone. 

He’s not finished with the math before there’s a knock at the door. Eddie stands up to answer it, even though he knows who it is, and Buck is walking carefully into the foyer. He can’t be sure, but it looks like Buck might be a little antsy, the way he’s tugging at the hem on his tee, shifting his weight back and forth as he toes his shoes off. 

His hair is still damp at the edges, slicked back like Buck had tried to style it but it hadn’t quite cooperated. 

“Alright,” he drops his hands to rub up and down the thighs of his jeans. “What’re you thinking this time?” 

Eddie hesitates. He knows what the goal is, knows what he’d enjoyed last time. But he doesn't know how to ask for it, or if Buck would even want to do that again. 

“We … make noises again? Like last time?” Eddie raises his eyebrows, and Buck steps further into the living room, stopping just before he’s invading Eddie’s personal space. “That was good, I think.” 

“We could do that,” Buck nods and Eddie tries not to let the relief show on his face when he realizes that Buck is interested in sleeping with him again. “Or, if you _really_ want to upset your neighbors, I could make you beg.” 

He steps closer, until he’s almost close enough to be touching Eddie, even though his hands are slipped around to his back pockets. There’s only a couple of inches between them, and Eddie’s not used to feeling _small_ standing next to anyone, but here, like this? Buck feels larger-than-life, imposing in a way that sucks the air out of his lungs. 

But Eddie can’t just give in. He won’t give Buck the satisfaction, so he leans a little closer and drops his voice to a whisper. 

“Mmm, I doubt it.” Buck’s eyes go dark, but he gives as good as he takes. 

“I’m just saying, you yell my name a couple of times, she won’t be able to deny what she thinks we’re doing.” 

Eddie feels his face go hot when Buck smirks at him, but he has to admit that he’s right. If Christina were upset to think that he and Buck are a couple, he hates to think how she’d react to have it confirmed. Loudly and obscenely, through the bedroom wall. 

Something stirs in Eddie’s gut, and he chalks it up to nerves as he reaches for Buck’s wrist, tugging him down the short hallway toward the bedroom. 

“I’d like to see you try,” he mutters, loudly enough that he knows Buck can hear. The next part, though, he says at full volume. “Let’s do it. No promises, though.” 

“Oh, you don’t need to promise.” Buck nudges Eddie through the doorway, reaches over his head to pull his own shirt off. “You won’t be able to help yourself.” 

Eddie doesn’t have an answer, so he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he wraps his fingers around the hem of his shirt and pulls it up, knowing that his abs will flex and his shoulders will stretch. Buck is watching, Eddie knows he’s watching, can feel his gaze burning into his midsection as he steps back and drops onto the end of the mattress. It shifts under his weight, bouncing him up and down, and he lets his knees fall open, creating a space for Buck to fill. 

He does, moving in close until Eddie’s thighs are framing his own knees and his hands rest on Eddie’s shoulders. 

It’s heated at first, then a sense of cold sobriety falls over them both and Buck leans down to look Eddie in the eye. 

“Seriously, stop me if you need to. Or if you want to. No means no.” 

Eddie nods, opening his mouth to respond, but Buck’s hands are pushing on his shoulders, shoving him backward. He bounces again, when his head and shoulders hit the blankets, but doesn’t have time to react to the movement before Buck is crawling over him, caging him in on all four sides and leaning down until his breath is hot on Eddie’s ear. 

“And remember,” he whispers, his voice low and raspy. _“Loud.”_

Then his mouth is on Eddie’s neck, teeth scraping along the tendons and making him groan. Buck doesn’t suck on the skin, seems to know without Eddie having to say anything that he can’t leave marks behind. But he nips and kisses his way down, one hand running up and down Eddie’s abs while the other holds loosely onto a hip. 

He doesn’t have to press down, doesn’t have to do _anything_ for Eddie to know what it means. 

_Don’t move. Stay put and take what Buck has to give._

Buck grazes his collarbone, lips and tongue so featherlight that Eddie gasps under the ministrations. His mouth hovers over one of Eddie’s nipples, breathing against the skin before he laves his tongue over the tight nub. Here, he does suck, pulling his lips over his teeth to soften the touch without having to sacrifice the suction he’s creating. 

Eddie’s back arches, chasing the sensations even before Buck pulls away. He turns his head, swirling his tongue around Eddie’s other nipple, but hardly pays it any attention before he’s continuing to work down his torso, sliding his own legs off of the bed to support his weight. 

He licks across Eddie’s abs next, tracing the definition and biting at the hard planes of muscle. Eddie opens his mouth, his body betraying his mind, without any idea what he’s going to say. 

He wants to urge Buck on, wants to ask for more. But he can’t give in this early, can’t let Buck win the satisfaction of making him beg. Especially not before his pants are even off. 

So he groans again, loud and drawn out, certain that the noise will carry through the wall. It’s enough for Buck to hear too, and Eddie feels the vibrations against his skin as Buck chuckles, the hot puffs of air on his skin. 

Then Buck’s tongue dips into his belly button, wiggling back and forth, and it shouldn’t do nearly as much for him as it does. But Eddie moans, the sound breaking halfway through, cracking up an octave like his voice hasn’t done in over a decade. It’s strangled, even to his own ears, and he’s just barely got the wherewithal to be a little bit embarrassed at the way Buck has reduced him to a whining mess, when all they’re supposed to be doing is having a little fun and pissing off his neighbors. 

He’s pulled back into the moment, though, when something hard and bony presses into his hip. He looks down to find that Buck is looking right back at him, chin resting against Eddie’s leg. Buck is still holding onto his hip, arm stretched across Eddie’s waist but carefully resting just high enough that he’s not providing any friction to the sizable bulge in Eddie’s sweatpants. 

“Yeah, I thought so,” Buck murmurs with a smile, before turning his face down to dig his teeth into the fabric of the sweats, a dull throb against Eddie’s skin. Then Buck is pulling away entirely, drawing his hand back and standing up just far enough that he’s not touching Eddie at all, except where his fingers dip into Eddie’s waistband. 

Buck stills, two fingers on each hand burning into Eddie’s skin, and waits for him to crane his neck and look. When Eddie does, he raises his eyebrows, silently gauging the look on his face. 

Eddie waits, letting Buck gather whatever resolve he’s working for, or nerve or whatever, but he still doesn’t move. 

“God, Buck, please!” His head falls back against the comforter and his hips try to work against the empty air above him. 

It's exactly what Buck was looking for, apparently, because in one fluid motion, he’s yanking the sweatpants down Eddie’s legs and dropping to his knees. 

Eddie feels the cool air hit his dick, the way it knocks against his stomach as it springs free from the material. Buck’s fingers are wrapping around it almost instantly, too loose to provide any real satisfaction, just enough to ghost over the taut skin. 

He groans again, rocking his hips in a futile effort to find any sort of friction. It’s like Buck can predict his movements, shifts his hand away just before Eddie gets there. 

It’s infuriating, in the best sort of way. 

But then Buck is bending forward, sucking the head of Eddie’s cock into his mouth and running his tongue along the ridge at the bottom of it, He works his lips back and forth, changing the pressure just enough that Eddie can’t keep up with it around the haze in his brain. Gradually, he sinks lower, taking Eddie deeper little by little, pulling up for air and suckling again at the tip. 

There’s no pattern to it, nothing for Eddie to do except fist his hands in the comforter and hold on for dear life, let Buck take him on whatever ride he’s got planned today. 

He’s making noises, he knows, can hear them echoing in his ears, feel the way his mouth is going dry with his heavy breathing. It’s loud, it has to be, he’s sure it is, how he’s sucking in air like there’s not enough to go around, crying out whenever Buck does something new, gets his mouth around a little bit more of Eddie’s dick. 

Eddie feels his dick bump against the back of Buck’s throat. He hesitates briefly, pulls off completely and draws in careful breaths. Eddie’s just getting ready to check in, to ask if he’d hurt Buck, even by mistake, when he rolls his neck from side to side, inhales again and bends back down. 

This time, he takes Eddie all the way into his mouth, without any effort. When his cock hits into his throat, Eddie feels Buck tremble, but he presses forward, willing himself to let Eddie sink deeper. 

No one’s ever deep-throated him before, no ex-girlfriend has ever nestled her nose against Eddie’s pelvis the way Buck is doing now. It’s hot, physically, almost burning with how good it feels. But it’s hot in a larger sense too, that Buck trusts him enough to let this happen, to make this happen and test his own wills. 

He swallows, the muscles of his throat rippling around Eddie’s erection, and it pulls another groan from deep in Eddie’s throat. He drops the comforter from one hand, groping clumsily until his fingers can wrap around Buck’s shoulder and squeeze, trying to warn him with words he can’t find around his garbled screams. 

Buck gets the message, just like Eddie had known he would, and pulls up again, breathing even harder than before. His face is flushed, though Eddie can’t tell if it’s from embarrassment or from the angle and the oxygen deprivation. Either way, he looks like he’s just run a marathon, and something stirs in Eddie’s stomach. 

“Buck,” he gasps, reaching for him again. “Buck, shit, you’ve … _shit.”_ He can’t get his brain to cooperate well enough to build the sentence, the cool air hitting even colder where Buck’s saliva still coats his skin. He shivers at the sensation, rubs a hand up and down his own chest as he tries to regain at least a little bit of composure. “You good to-” 

He doesn’t even answer, just honest-to-God winks as he sinks down around Eddie’s dick again. 

The movements slow down, more languid this time, like he’s comfortable between Eddie’s legs, with Eddie’s dick in his mouth. Buck licks up and down his erection, mouths at the base and runs his tongue around Eddie’s balls. At that, Eddie shudders and he can feel Buck’s grin pressing into his skin. 

“Buck, _please,”_ The words fall from Eddie’s lips without his permission, the only thing he can think of to say right now, a litany of praise in the hopes that Buck will keep going, never stop what he’s doing to Eddie. “Please, so good, shit, just – Buck, Buck, please, _Buck!”_

He’s almost sobbing by the end of it, so overwhelmed with the sensations when Buck brings one of his hands up to fondle Eddie’s balls. But still, he keeps chanting his name, distantly remembers that it’s important that he be loud, that people be able to hear how good Buck is making him feel. 

He’s close now, so close, teetering on a precipice, just waiting for enough built up tension to push him over the edge. Every muscle in his body feels drawn up tight, ready to snap if he’s bent just the wrong way. 

Buck’s hand disappears and Eddie whines, an undignified sound drawn up from the back of his throat, like the loss of contact might actually kill him. 

The dam breaks when Eddie feels a finger pressing against his asshole. It’s more than he can handle, the pleasure tearing him apart and crushing him underneath its force. He stays together, but only barely, and only because Buck is touching him, hand wrapping tightly around his dick and stroking him slowly through the aftershocks. It’s a point he can focus on, something he can tie himself to stay in the moment. 

He hardly registers anything else until he’s come back to himself, just Buck’s name on his lips, Buck’s hand around him, Buck somehow knowing exactly when to let go, just when the pleasure was edging into oversensitivity. Then Buck is shifting back up the mattress, covering Eddie’s body again, and wiping his hand off on the pillowcase next to Eddie’s head. 

“So?” When Eddie’s still breathing too hard to answer, Buck laughs. “Told you I could make you beg.” 

Eddie tries to shove at his shoulder, but his limbs aren’t quite back online yet, so it comes off more like a pathetic wave than anything else. Buck laughs again, and Eddie rolls his eyes, then realizes that Buck is still wearing his jeans. 

It takes him a moment to collect the energy, but Eddie pulls one of his hands over to fumble the button until it comes open, then push his hand into the space between Buck’s pants and his boxers. 

He runs his hand over the thick bulge and Buck’s hips push forward into the touch as he groans. 

“Need me to … repay the favor?” Eddie tries to make it sound seductive, but he can’t be convinced that he doesn’t sound like the lead in a low-budget porn movie. Still, it seems to work for Buck, who’s moving faster now, rutting against Eddie’s hand and biting his lip. 

“Shit, Eds,” Buck gasps, and Eddie starts trying to call back anything he’s ever known about giving blowjobs, but he shifts back just far enough to push his jeans down to his knees. “Next time, maybe, but we have to keep your mouth empty today. Otherwise the neighbors won’t be able to hear.” 

And shit, but the way that comes out of his mouth, Eddie is almost able to forget that the actual goal here is to piss off the neighbors. Buck sounds _into it,_ like the thought of being heard is adding something to this for him. 

That realization is enough to have Eddie curling his fingers around Buck’s dick, reaching into his boxers to get down to his actual skin. Buck hisses at the contact, and drops his hips a couple of inches lower to press harder against Eddie’s touch as he rocks his hips back and forth. 

“Eddie,” he moans, tipping his head back. “Fuck, tighter, _move.”_

Eddie does, adjusting his grip and sliding his hand back and forth, jerking Buck off as he shoves his underpants far enough down that his access is unrestricted. He drags his hand up and down Buck’s length, twisting his wrist every so often and watching the way Buck’s entire body reacts. 

His fingers twitch next to Eddie’s head, his leg stuttering with some of his thrusts. And what blood didn’t go to his groin must be in his head, where he’s flushed redder than Eddie’s ever seen. 

“That’s it, so hot for me, Buck.” He feels slightly foolish, the words awkward in his mouth, but he knows he has to say something, and it has to be loud enough to carry through the wall. 

He does it a couple more times, offers loud and ambiguous praise for what they’re doing, how Buck looks, all of it. It doesn’t feel any more authentic, but Eddie thinks it must be doing the trick, if the goal is to make people uncomfortable. 

Buck’s hips are rocking faster now, almost jackhammering his dick in and out of Eddie’s tight fist. He slides his thumb up to run across the head the next time Buck slams down, and he spasms, jerking erratically for a moment. 

Eddie does it again, and twice more, and he knows Buck has to be close, but it’s just not quite enough to pull the orgasm from him. So Eddie adds to his approach. He stops shouting, doesn’t say anything for a few strokes, then whispers quietly, for only himself and Buck to hear. 

“Yeah, just like that, yeah, come for me, Buck.” 

It’s not quite an order, but Buck seems to take it as one, coating Eddie’s hand as he pumps himself through the orgasm, slowing to a stop as the feelings wear off. 

Eddie’s hand is sticky now, and much as he’d love to touch Buck, relish in any sort of contact he can get, he knows he needs to clean up first. When Buck slumps sideways, flopping bonelessly onto the mattress, Eddie rolls himself off of the bed and washes up quickly. He comes back with a damp rag, steaming from the hot water, and wipes carefully across Buck’s body, even though he’d caught almost all of the mess in his fingers. It feels like a courtesy, basic decency after someone sucks your dick to help get back at your homophobic neighbors. 

Because that’s all they’re doing here, nothing more than a couple of friends burning off some tension and proving a point to the people next door. 

Which is why Eddie pulls his sweatpants back over his legs as Buck zips up his jeans. He leaves the button undone, though, a little triangle of his underpants visible before the top of the zipper. It’s a simple thing, probably meaningless, but Eddie has to force himself to stop staring at the sharp line of black fabric stopping the trail of hair down his stomach. 

He clears his throat, makes himself come up with something to say instead of lingering in the uneasy silence between them. 

“Hey, uh, while you’re over … stay for a movie? I’ll grab beers, make some popcorn?” 

“Yeah, sure.” Buck shrugs like it’s the easiest answer in the world, like Eddie didn't even need to bother making it an invitation, because he’d maybe already decided to stay. 

That’s how they find themselves sitting on the couch, _Indiana Jones_ flickering on the TV in front of them. Eddie’s beer rests on one arm of the sofa, but Buck leans his against his thigh, sitting sideways and stretching his legs out until his bare feet tuck underneath the edge of Eddie’s leg. 

They chat idly, catching up on the few days of each other's lives that they missed. Eddie tells Buck about the A Chris got on his book report and listens eagerly when Buck details one of the calls he’d worked on his latest shift. 

There’s a layer of fabric between them still, Eddie’s sweatpants keeping Buck’s toes from touching his skin. But he can feel every inch of contact burning into his leg, like he's pushing against a sunburn, the constant awareness of Buck, here with him, touching him so mindlessly, like they hadn’t been in his bed not half an hour ago. 

It's one of his favorite things about Buck, how he loves with reckless abandon, gives his affection so easily. Eddie envies it sometimes, struggles occasionally to share his own feelings that openly. 

But he takes a breath and drops his hand down to rest over Buck’s ankle, hoping Buck sees the gesture for what it is: Eddie’s gratitude for everything Buck has ever done for him, especially with the latest developments, the sort of favor he wouldn’t have dreamed of asking from anyone else. 

Buck’s toes wiggle underneath his leg, pressing into the muscle more firmly, and Eddie exhales, knowing that Buck could tell exactly what he meant. 

He always knows exactly what Eddie means, even when he can’t find the words. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you ((hopefully)) next week!

**Author's Note:**

> Fair warning, things escalate from here. See you ... probably Thursday or Friday?


End file.
